Repatriation
by ichibanseiken
Summary: Sequel to "Hospitality"  Bya/Ren, Shuu/Ken .  Upon his return to SS to help Shuuhei claim what's his, Kensei is met with unexpected challenges.  Thank you gypsygrrl for beta!  Warnings:  yaoi angst, rated T for now, will be M later on; Shuu/Ken   friends.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: Bleach world and characters belong to Tite Kubo_

REPATRIATION

Nothing felt the same. In his rational mind, Muguruma Kensei knew that things would have changed in the one hundred years of his exile. Even the tradition-bound Soul Society would have experienced changes under the best of circumstances; now, after the War and with all the ryoka influences and Living World trends and artifacts brazenly displayed by some of the younger shinigami, the changes were numerous.

His keen yellow eyes surveyed his new home for any variations, large or small, comparing his glorified memories of the time before his exile to this new Soul Society. Not always new and improved, no. Sometimes just different. Even the minutest shift caused him to miss a step, his rational mind cataloguing the discrepancies while his feelings were assaulted by each new thing .

His posture exuding confidence despite his internal turmoil, he stood boldly in the meeting hall with the other captains and their vice captains. Yamamoto-soutaichou welcomed him with measured and well-considered words. His former colleagues had voted to welcome him back as a temporary captain serving in an advisory capacity. Even though the vote was not quite unanimous, he was presented with a sleeveless, pristine white haori with the kanji number "9" emblazoned on its back. He allowed Kyoraku-taichou and Ukitake-taichou to slip the haori over his black, sleeveless shihakusho. It felt right, sitting his broad shoulders comfortably once again.

"Welcome, Muguruma-taichou. May you guide Hisagi-fukutaichou wisely," the soutaichou's gravelly voice resounded through the stately hall.

He turned to make eye contact with Shuuhei, but Hisagi-fukutaichou stood at attention, his slightly unfocused eyes partially obscured by a veil of thick lashes. Taking in the younger man's formal air, he turned to face the others. Kuchiki-taichou had a similar expression and behind him, Abarai-fukutaichou stood like a pillar of stone.

The strike of staff against the floor brought the ceremony to the end. The 9th division never ceased being _his_ in his mind, not even in the deepest, darkest solitude of Kensei's exile. He'd never thought the changes in the Living World would have affected him back then – not the motorcars in the streets, not the changes in attire or the attitudes of women, not the increasingly tangled skein of electrical wires weaving its web over the streets of Karakura. Yet when the war washed over the land like numerous and incessant scalds of bitter, hot tea and Hollows became more numerous, he could no longer obey Hirako Shinji's orders to stay put and he ventured forth on his own, fighting the Hollows as befitted a 9th Division shinigami and performing countless soul burials.

Decades of an aching sense of loss and purpose promised to be negated by being welcomed back in a special advisory position. Hopeful yet stubborn, his eyes met the taichous' and fukutaichous' in the straightforward manner of a man who lived masterless for a century and adhered to his own internal code. He was Kenseiwho learned to run without his pack-mates, and as such, his surroundings took on a sameness devoid of sentimental attachments. . If he didn't like his new situation, he knew how to leave again.

"I hear the kid stuck up for you," said the gravelly voice of Zaraki Kenpachi, his huge hand landing on Kensei's shoulder. "You were recommended in his report."

Kensei's eyes mouth shut, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

"It was to be expected, Muguruma-taichou," Kyoraku Shunsui smiled, pushing his sekkat back as he offered his warm congratulations. "Although Kuchiki-taichou was supportive as well – and not much happens without his approval."

Kensei bowed his head in appreciation, his face conveniently obscured. He never expected his rival to lobby on his behalf.

Braced with steely resolve, he was bent on being gracious to Kuchiki-taichou in light of recent developments, as well as the events of two months prior. Byakuya and Renji were both instrumental in saving Shuuhei's life and without Shuuhei, he'd have no reason to be here at all. He took a step toward the 6th division captain, who merely looked at him coolly and acknowledged him with a nod.

"Muguruma-taichou."

His kenseikan gleaming in elegant, raven hair and the precious windflower scarf fluttering in the wind of his passing, Kuchiki-taichou flared his reiatsu in that ever-so-arrogant manner of the noble-born Kensei used to know so well and sailed out the door.

At least Abarai-fukutaichou met his eyes with a measure of warmth and inclined his head in passing, following in his captain's wake.

Kensei stood, stunned. Gone were the compassionate friends, the soothing hosts who so carefully tended to his Shuuhei and who concerned themselves with his comfort. Gone were the grin and the slightly upturned smile, the loose hair and the casual touches of the tekkou-clad hand against the tattooed arm. A familiar voice to his right brought him out of his reverie.

"Muguruma-taichou. Do you need any further assistance tonight?"  
Hisagi-fukutaichou. Not his Shuuhei. A man as cold and as formal as the two leaders of the 6th division. He briefly wondered what happened to that thoughtful kid with his amazing eucalyptus eyes.

**XDXDXD**

Three weeks passed – days filled with endless divisional responsibilities, evenings full of social obligations, nights passing in exhausted, dreamless sleep. Kensei had reacquainted himself with the Seireitei whose buildings had either been destroyed or were in the process of being rebuilt. He met with every single 9th division shinigami on his own time, relearning some old names but mostly connecting brand new ones with fresh, young faces. His heart ached at the thought of how many they had lost.

At least the rain had stopped. The ground was still wet but the trees were leafing and Kensei couldn't bear the confines of his office anymore. The thought of eating in the mess hall repulsed him.

Maybe a walk.

Somewhere far away.

His sandal-clad feet led him off the paved Seireitei streets and behind the 9th division's headquarters. There used to be a copse of trees there, wild and untamed. Not far away, perhaps, but a passing facsimile for solitude.

Ground squished wet and muddy under his feet, the moisture penetrating his knit tabi socks. He grinned at the thought of getting dirty as he passed under the crowns of trees stately with age. He remembered them as saplings and as the thought crossed his mind, his face fell. They had changed on him too. There had been an ancient pear tree in the middle of this growth way back when – there – ahhhh. Kensei was satisfied, relieved even, that it was still there, its prominent roots thrust into the craggy soil surrounding it. His face lit with a smile and he carded his hand through his short, white hair. He used to climb that tree and sleep in the "y" of the strong branches, long ago.

A few moments later found Kensei running his hands over the rough bark of the ancient tree, reacquainting himself to one of the few things that had not changed in the intervening years. The blossoms were almost gone and bright green leaves graced its branches. It smelled the same as he remembered it, the bark digging into the digits exposed by his fingerless gloves. He reached up, grabbing a branch by feel alone and swung into the tree as he had done so many times in the past; one, two, shift over and then a blind reach up – he swung his long body, using momentum to reach for the upper branch but grasped only empty air. His left foot slipped off the younger, smoother wet bark and he fell to the moist ground with an empty thud.

Incredible. He shook off his embarrassment and climbed up again, this time looking ahead as though the tree were new to him. And fuck, but some asshole had pruned his old pear tree. How dare they! He looked around and indeed, the familiar branchings felt more open somehow, the thick waterspouts which made his path so many years ago were now but healed scars in the bark.

Kensei climbed a bit higher, more careful of his suddenly unfamiliar surroundings, and settled against a thick branch which had used to be inaccessible back then.

Fuck.

Damn.

His tree, seemingly isolated in these little woods, and somebody had the gall to touch it, to change it. Everything looked familiar but nothing was the same. Kensei leaned back and closed his eyes. Sudden moisture threatened to make its way between his shut lids and he breathed in and out with quiet determination, willing it away. This was not the time to mourn – not for the old tree he used to know and not for the old home he lost and was never going to find again. Both this tree and this home were different now, changed by the flux of time. The old tree was gone, just like the old 9th division was gone and the old friends were gone, all subtly and indescribably different from the originals of one hundred years ago which were so clearly emblazoned and embellished in his mind.

For the first time in decades, Muguruma Kensei felt truly alone.

**XDXDXD**

"…by now we should have settled back to our rhythm. It's so upsetting."  
The bubbly, bell-pitched voice drifted up through the branches, waking him.

"Give taichou a chance," another female voice said. "It's been only three weeks."

Sounds of eating and sipping followed.

Kensei leaned out with great care to investigate. Three 9th division officers – all new faces in his mind - sat right below his tree, their bento boxed in their laps.

"Hisagi-fukutaichou had everything under such good control, though," the first one said, her bell-like voice carrying even while muted. "He should have been promoted straight up, Yuki."

The pale woman next to her smiled. "Yeah. He's so – so responsible. He does everything, knows everything about everybody – he really cares. He was handling everything so perfectly. Until he got sick – but he's fine now and we don't need another captain."

The black-haired woman with the bell-like voice was silent for awhile.

"I wouldn't mind Muguruma-taichou if he hadn't changed everything. Everything looks the same but it's different underneath. Like our training schedules – we train, sure, but all joint exercises with the 6th division have been cancelled." Her voice dipped in a sign of discontent.

Kensei remained painfully motionless, his mind focused on not-moving. Not-moving was a lot harder than just being still; suddenly he felt every bump of tree-bark under his shihakusho, the itch on the sole of his foot became intolerable and his tabi adhered to his ankles with clammy wetness from the previous mud-bath. Yet he could not afford to be discovered. He recognized this unique opportunity to hear what his officers were really thinking and feeling.

"What do you think, Arashi-kun?" Yuki asked.

"I think you miss not seeing Rikichi-san three times a week," the young man said, teasing.

"Not fair! Oh…I won't be having lunch with you tomorrow."

"Oh?" A voice chimed.

"I've been invited out for lunch by Rikichi-kun."

Kensei heard a slap on a shoulder.

"Oooh, you go girl!"

"It is only lunch," Yuko said, her voice suddenly shy. Kensei grinned, but the young man's next comment sobered him: "You know, I only wonder how many more of us had made good friends within the 6th division. I know I'll miss seeing someone special, too. Really, "69th Division" was the best of both worlds. Abarai-fukutaichou even agreed to help me control my shikai. That won't happen now."

Lunch hour over, the three left to attend to their duties. Not so Kensei. He sat up there in the pear tree, parsing over their words, juxtaposing their feelings over his own. They felt the same. It all seemed the same, but it felt so jarringly different. His troops missed the old schedule and their friends and their Hisagi-fukutaichou just as he missed his old climbing branches. The jarring fall he suffered was still fresh in his mind, and he now wondered whether he was subjecting the 9th division – _his division_ – to those same feelings of impermanence and loss by his very presence.

One thought was a constant in his mind, however: Shuuhei was not the stoic rock of support and the endless well of sympathy as his subordinates viewed him. Shuuhei was still empty inside, still in need of healing. He was doing too much for too many, and with sudden clarity Kensei saw why he was so popular. Hisagi-fukutaichou gave of so much of himself to others that there was very little left for himself.

**XDXDXD**

He walked in to see Hisagi Shuuhei behind his desk, working steadily with brush in hand. His unruly black hair begged to be ruffled and Kensei stuck his thumbs into his obi to prevent himself from doing just that.

"How goes it, kid?"

Shuuhei lifted his head, rolling his stiff shoulders and stretching his neck. "Almost done, taichou. Here, these forms require your signature." He stood to walk them over to Kensei's desk.

"And I didn't see you in the mess hall." Gray-green eyes looked up to him in question.

Kensei cleared his throat and looked away.

"Yeah." He sat in his wooden chair, touching the forms Shuuhei just gave him absently.

"Getting some fresh air. Too many people." His stomach growled and he smiled ruefully. "I'll go get something."

"The mess hall is closed but I brought you this, just in case." Shuuhei produced a bento with several standard selections, placing it on an empty corner of Kensei's desk.

Kensei looked up, surprised. His inner turmoil was carefully suppressed.

"Thanks, kid."

"Name's Hisagi Shuuhei, Muguruma-taichou."

Kensei noted a bit of life in those haunted eyes. Ahhh, so Shuuhei has a soft spot.

"Nice name, kid. I'll make sure to use it someday." He grinned, his good humor reaching all the way up to those gleaming, primrose-yellow eyes, his reiatsu extending to brush against Shuuhei's in an accidental, playful caress.

Shuuhei sat back down, ready to pick up his brush again.

"Put that down."

The fukutaichou obeyed his captain's gruff voice. Kensei stalked behind Shuuhei's chair.

"Lean back."

He put his gloved hands on Shuuhei's shoulders. "You're all stiff. How long have you been sitting here?"

"Ah…ow…ah…" Shuuhei couldn't quite formulate words under Kensei's powerful fingers. Kensei lightened up his touch, kneading the tight shoulder muscles, his rough fingers moving up Shuuhei's sore, stiff neck. He was gratified to see Shuuhei close his eyes in pleasure.

"You're gonna relax more, and that's an order."

"Hai, taichou."

The younger man was utterly stunned by Kensei's next question.

"Shuuhei. Do you think I made too many changes? You think the troops are feeling alright about all this?" 


	2. Chapter 2

**_I've updated this chapter since yesterday - this version is significantly improved by gypsygrr's edits (thank you so much!) Hope you enjoy._**

REPATRIATION – 2

Lunchtime dragged on. Evicted from the comfortable solitude of his office, Hisagi Shuuhei, 9th division fukutaichou, walked down the path behind the divisional offices, kicking a small stone before him with his waraji-clad feet.

Muguruma-taichou had ordered him out. Out into the fresh air, out to socialize, out to have more fun.

_Fun._

The meaning of the word slipped between the fingers of his loosely closed fists, his brows knitted together in a solemn frown. He couldn't remember what fun felt like anymore. What he'd had with Tousen-taichou had been duty, albeit joyful duty. But it hadn't been what he would call _fun_. After the betrayal, after the War, his shoulders had been burdened with the suspicion of others as well as an increased duty toward his division. He remembered long nights at the pub with Matsumoto and Kira, Renji and Ikkaku and Yumichika and Iba – their companionship gave him comfort, but _fun_? No. Fun wasn't quite the right word for it. He'd never really had a chance to think about himself – he'd had no chance to think, period.

That is why, once the War ended, he had felt so adrift and without purpose – until he'd met Kensei. Re-met Kensei. And that had definitely been not fun at all, for Kensei rejected him and his love most sternly and Shuuhei had felt he had nothing more to live for. His wayward feet had brought him to Kuchiki-taichou's doorstep, where Byakuya and Renji had given of themselves as best they could to bring Shuuhei back to the world of the living – and even though he had became accustomed to their caring company, that hadn't exactly been fun either, for their closeness only reminded him of what he himself lacked. And even though they had shared that closeness with him, that hadn't been fun for long because he could see how he could easily drive a wedge between them, and he'd politely removed himself from their bed and their almost constant company. And that had definitely not been fun. That had hurt. _A lot_.

He had muddled on without them, a wraith, walking dead, until Kensei had been brought along to embrace him and lend his support. Muguruma Kensei, the former 9th division taichou with a Hollow inside him and a gruff, no nonsense exterior, had come to recognize his awkward affection for the young lieutenant, but he hadn't quite known what to do with or about it, for he had never felt that way about any man. And thus, Shuuhei's relationship with the temporarily reinstated captain - temporary until Shuuhei was deemed ready for the white haori – the relationship with his Muguruma-taichou was strictly business and rather cool around the edges. Shuuhei could not find much _fun_ in it. Security, yes. Comfort in shared responsibility, of course. But fun?

_**You're thinking too hard again.**_

Shuuhei's mouth upturned in a slight smile at the voice of Kazeshini in his head. One good thing which had come out of this whole mess was the rekindling of a more cordial relationship with his zanpakutou.

_Am not._

_**You are. You don't THINK your way into having fun. You have to ACT your way into it.**_

Shuuhei kept kicking the pebble down the path, filtered sunlight playing in golden pools on the clean, raked sand. His steps took him close to a wild copse of trees by a nearby park and there was a large, old pear tree straight in the middle. Shuuhei took great pride in caring for that tree; he mulched it and pruned the unnecessary branches, always taking care that its presence was disguised. It was his tree alone; nobody else knew about it. He reached up to swing up into its densely leafed branches and climbed high enough to see the 9th division headquarters' roof over the canopy of the surrounding woods. Settling into a generous y-shaped branch, he observed that the pear harvest would be plentiful this year.

_**Are you having fun, sitting up in a tree?**_

_I suppose._

_**You're supposed to be out seeing other people. **_

Shuuhei thought about that. The only person he wanted to spend time with was Kensei, but Kensei was busy being Muguruma-taichou and it just felt inappropriate to think of him the way Shuuhei used to think of him back in those uncomplicated days in the Living World, when Kensei had merely been one of the Vizards and Shuuhei had been there to forge diplomatic ties.

_There's nothing to do, Kazeshini._

_**Like what?**_

_Nothing. Kensei does half the paperwork, the 3__rd__ seat does some of mine, and I'm not really needed anywhere at the moment._

_**There's more to life than just doing paperwork, baka.**_

_I can train the division, sure. _

Shuuhei's frown turned into a deep sigh. The training of the division was a sore point between himself and Kensei. It had run so well before, when the 6th and the 9th cooperated closely together. Everybody had been happy. Now, Kensei wanted the 9th to "stand on its own two feet". He didn't want to depend on any other division, much less Kuchiki-taichou's . Kensei didn't quite growl when Renji came along to spar with Shuuhei, but Shuuhei did feel the prickly, irritated texture of his captain's reiatsu at the redhead's presence and he knew that at some level, Kensei felt beholden to Abarai-fukutaichou and hated it. He felt the weight of obligation to him for welcoming Shuuhei into his and Byakuya's arms, and he hated that even more. Yet Kensei's possessive jealousy didn't culminate in any acts of intimacy between them, and Shuuhei couldn't help but feel somewhat rejected.

He wasn't needed to train the division. He wasn't needed to do the paperwork. He wasn't needed to keep Kensei company, apparently, or else why would Kensei chase him off to "have fun"?

_I have all this time all to myself and I just don't have anything to do. _

_**Bored?**_

_Bored. _

Shuuhei reached deep within himself for a fair assessment of his feelings, feeling as if 'bored' wasn't quite the right word he was looking for.

_No, not bored. More like…not depressed, but sort of…empty._

**XDXDXD**

The dark, wooden door of the Kuchiki mansion opened at his polite knock.

"Hisagi-fukutaichou!" The older, short servant wore a pleased smile when he saw him standing there.

"Foo-san. Is Kuchiki-sama available?"

Shuuhei felt Bykayua's reiatsu somewhere in the compound.

"Please come in, Hisagi-fukutaichou. I will announce you."

Shuuhei sat across the small table from Byakuya.

"If you have not eaten, then please do so now." Byakuya Kuchiki's voice was firm.

"Thank you. I just…I am not hungry."

Shuuhei felt the older man's grey eyes on him, his gaze searching.

"You were making a good recovery for awhile yet you seem to be losing weight again."

Shuuhei felt the question in the statement and decided to redirect the conversation to safer grounds.

"The reason I came, Byakuya…" His grey-green, eucalyptus eyes lifted toward his former host and lover with the informal address, "the reason I came was because I need to ask you a question."

"I see."

"How do you have fun?"  
Byakuya Kuchiki sat ramrod straight behind his almost-finished lunch. His expression was calm, the narrow mouth slightly firm. His eyebrows drew together as he tried to comprehend the question.

"Fun?"

**XDXDXD**

They sat by the koi pond, leaning against the rough trunk of an old sakura tree. Not quite facing each other, and not touching, their proximity was enough for a sense of companionship.

"…So Kensei sent me out to go and have 'fun'. I think he meant for me to go see people."

"I doubt he meant for you to come have lunch with me," Byakuya said dryly.

Shuuhei shrugged, his bare arms scraping the tree bark slightly.

"I doubt he cares much. We're all business."

Silence grew, crested, and passed.

"Do you wish for mine and Renji's company?" Byakuya asked, his voice level.

Shuuhei's eyebrows drew together, a sudden tightness squeezing his chest.

"No." His voice was but a whisper. "I miss the two of you, but that had been a very…generous…gift from the two of you and I wouldn't feel right in imposing."

"You do not want to come to us based on your unsatisfied need," Byakuya articulated.

Shuuhei felt his shoulders relax just a bit.

"I think that's a fair statement."

"So what do you desire, Shuuhei?"

Silence trickled between them again, its streams fuller and louder until it couldn't be ignored and Shuuhei shook his head to make its roaring stop. The raven-haired man sat facing him now, his kenseikan and haori a bright gleam in the shade of the tree. His soft, grey eyes were filled with concern.

"I don't know, Byakuya. I don't know how to have fun."

Byakuya sighed, his shoulders drooping just a tad.

"Neither do I, Shuuhei."

"Renji is your fun."

Byakuya inclined his head. "Renji has enough mischief for several people."

"So what do you do when all the work is done?"

Whole minutes passed. A cicada sang in the treetops, announcing the beginning of summer heat.

"I manage the Clan. There are calligraphy society meetings. I meditate. Renji and I spar."

"I see." Shuuhei lifted voluptuous eyelashes to meet the 6th division captain's gaze.

"When you have no more work to do, you make more work. Unless Renji is around."

**XDXDXD**

"Taichou."

"Shuuhei." Kensei slid his yellow eyes toward the younger man, his gaze but lightly tripping over the "69" tattooed on his cheek. "So, did you have fun?"

Shuuhei looked at Muguruma-taichou in his sleeveless shihakusho and sleeveless haori, its whiteness rivaled only by the man's naturally white hair.

"I tried." The tendril of Kensei's reiatsu that had reached out for his own languidly quickly turned prickly with displeasure.  
"Where did you go?" Kensei rumbled, his voice not too loud.

"Oh, a secret place of mine. And then Kazeshini nagged me to see people, so I had lunch with Kuchiki-taichou."

"I swore I could smell some sakura just a while ago," Kensei allowed gruffly. "Had fun?"

"It was pleasant, in its own way, but…you know, Kuchiki-taichou doesn't know how to have fun either. I don't, and he doesn't. And he doesn't know how to advise me on this matter."

Shuuhei stood from behind his desk, his newly arrived paperwork as yet untouched. He walked over to Kensei's larger desk and leaned his hip against its edge.

"I'll have to ask you, then. If it was strictly up to you, what would you do for fun right now?"

Shuuhei watched his taichou stiffen in his tall, wooden chair and then tilt it back to lift his gaze to Shuuhei, assessing. There was something new in his eye, something predatory and wild and unchecked and Shuuhei could have sworn that his eyes grew more yellow in the dim light of the office.

"Taichou? What would you do for fun?" he repeated.

Shuuhei watched Kensei rise, his broad shoulders leaning over the younger man's somewhat slighter frame. Their eyes met and Shuuhei gasped, the yellow irises had turned cold and feral, Kensei's reiatsu suddenly darker and heavier against his skin. Shuuhei maintained eye contact and the rational part of his mind recalled that a Hollow was sharing the inside of Kensei's being, untamed and primal and he knew he stood in its presence at that very moment. He should have been scared, but curiosity overcame caution. The heavy, dark reiatsu had warmth to it, pressing his thighs and hips harder against the wooden desk, weighing down on his chest like a heavy, hot massage stone and Shuuhei narrowed his eyes in pleasure and extended his energy to push back. He felt Kazeshini purr in his mind and his head tilted back just a fraction as his eyes closed against the overwhelming, cocoon-like sensation of warmth and darkness.

A large hand shook his shoulder and he grumbled, cracking his eyes open.

"Taichou?" Alarm shot through him when he realized he was lying on the couch in the office. Hadn't he just been leaning against Kensei's desk? He scrubbed at his face, feeling disoriented and loggy. "What happened?"

"My Hollow found your question fascinating and wished to participate in our conversation. Unfortunately, you didn't find it very interesting and fell asleep." Muguruma-taichou's voice was a husky crackle in the dim light of the warm summer evening.

"Oh." Shuuhei sat up on the sofa, running his hands up his face and into his hair. "Sorry. Sorry I fell asleep."

He recalled the heavy, almost oppressive heat and weight of the Hollow's reiatsu, the darkness which kept him from thinking in old, negative refrains. Under the blanket of that reiatsu there was no thinking. There was only feeling.

"Tell your Hollow I'll be happy to speak with him again. Besides, my zanpakutou seems to like him."

**XDXDXD**

Kensei stood like a pillar of salt, numb and speechless. His fukutaichou stood and stretched and rubbed his arm against the chill of wakening. He felt the gray-green eyes search out his own.

"Taichou? Have I offended you? Should I have not mentioned your Hollow? If so, I'm sorry…"

He shook his head absently, "You may speak…of my Hollow. If you wish."

He eyed the younger man curiously. "What did you think?"

Shuuhei paused in thought. "Your reiatsu changed some when he was looking out of your eyes. It was so heavy…and dark…but warm– almost hot, but not unbearably so. I felt pressed down under it."  
"I'm sorry," Kensei clipped the gruff words, embarrassed.

"Don't be... It felt great. I loved the feeling of – of not having to do anything. I felt warm and safe and didn't have to think or…I had no choice." Kensei saw the brunet turn his head away, suddenly shy.

"You may not care for me much, Muguruma-taichou, but your Hollow seems to like me."

Kensei felt his Hollow roar within, clawing its way to the surface with desperate force. He suppressed it ruthlessly, feeling a sudden, familiar fear of himself.

He drew near the younger man with slow, carefully precise steps. Large, warm hands swept up Shuuhei's bare arms and he looked into those eucalyptus eyes. Kensei's expression was serious as he drew Shuuhei in for a slow, gentle embrace.

"I care for you a great deal. If I didn't, I wouldn't have bothered coming back to this…I'd be in that warehouse, hoping you'd visit."

He lowered his head as his right hand slid up Shuuhei's shoulder, fingers teasing up the graceful neck, skipping over the explosive collar, finding a home in soft, spiky hair. He fell into those deep, grey-green pools and let his mouth find soft, sensuous lips, melting into their softness, his eyes closing as the slighter man's generous eyelashes lowered to veil a curious, penetrating gaze. He heard a slight whimper and felt tentative hands skim his waist shyly, running up his side and back. Their hips were brought together by mutual accord and now the moan filling the empty office air was his own, and he eased his tongue between Shuuhei's already parted lips, tasting fresh ocean air, skimming the sensitive inside of with the tip of a questing tongue.

They broke for air, panting.

"Shuuhei." Kensei's voice was but a hoarse whisper. "With me, you'll always have a choice."

"And if I don't want to?"

"You'll find a way to make decisions that are the best for you. I'll make you learn."

"Make me, then."

Kensei watched the faint smile turn up his fukutaichou's lips. Is that what it was, then? Was Hisagi Shuuhei so worn down by life's demands that he would willingly submit not only to him, but to the oppressive force of his Hollow, and think it a release? Once again Kensei visualized Shuuhei as a spring, wound so tightly it threatened to snap.

"This is what we're going to do. First, we'll have dinner. Then, we'll go drinking. And we'll go drinking separately. We both need to make friends outside of each other. If I have to, I'll make it an order—go out, drink as much as you feel necessary, then report to me early in the morning over breakfast. My quarters."

Shuuhei's eyes opened wide. "Tomorrow's Sunday, taichou!"

"Special assignment, fukutaichou," he said teasingly, enjoying the hesitant spark of laughter in his lieutenant's eyes. There was hope for the kid yet.

**XDXDXD**

They walked to a nearby eatery and ordered fish and vegetable tempura. "To form a better foundation for tonight's activities", as Kensei put it. Then they had a cup of tea each and it was time to depart.

"I'd…I will do as you say, taichou, however…I would feel more comfortable if I could be with you."

Kensei looked at the lost, empty expression that threatened to overtake his fukutaichou's eyes.

"Shuu. The 9th division depends on us. We have to be its leaders and frankly, we suck at it. You do everything for everyone and are unable to delegate because you're too busy being polite. I can't swing a dead cat without stepping on people's toes. We have to go out there and form what Unohana-taichou calls "support networks". That means, connecting with friends again. I hate doing it again – nobody's the same after a hundred years." There was a faraway look in Kensei's eyes for just a moment and then he turned to the younger man again.

"Shuu. The 9th can't stand on its own two feet until its captain and lieutenant don't learn how to stand strong as well."

Shuuhei straightened, his mission now clearly defined.

"Yes, taichou."

"Let me walk with you. It's my way."

**XDXDXD**

He almost felt bad for his fukutaichou, the younger man's tension imbuing the air around them.

"Here, let me spot the first round," Kensei said gruffly as he dragged Shuuhei to the table. They shared the first round of drinks with Matsumoto, Kira, Iba, Ikkaku, Yumichika, and Renji. They all sipped their sake carefully, making sure not to spill on the 6th division fukutaichou's formal, silk kimono. He looked striking with his hair down, side braids tied back in the middle. The crimson waves spilled over his brand-new, navy blue garment, a thin layer of white peeking underneath, white Kuchiki mons embroidered in five traditional locations. The silver and grey obi was patterned with a discreet sakura pattern.

"Well I better go, then. Wish me luck," Renji grinned, adjusting Zabimaru by his side and taking off in quick flash-step.

"What's the occasion?" Shuuhei asked.

"A family dinner, he'd said." Yumichika's voice had a playful lilt to it. "I hope he survives it."  
"Che, it's only twenty people. It's not like he's meeting the whole clan." Ikkaku's belligerent voice sounded from the other side of the table. "He'll be fine."

Kensei leaned over to Shuuhei. "See? It could be worse. You could be meeting my family, all dressed up. Instead, all I'm ordering you to do is have some fun."

With those words, Kensei stroked his back discreetly and disappeared out the door.

**XDXDXD**

The morning sun poured in through the brightly scrubbed windows, reflecting off the white walls and bouncing directly into Shuuhei's eyes.

"How are you doing, Hisagi-fukutaichou?" asked a solicitous voice. An unknown voice. Shuuhei worked hard to crack his eyes open and groaned at the brightness of the room.

"Uh…where am I?"

"You are at the 4th division, Hisagi-fukutaichou. Here – you will need to use this bedpan."

_Bedpan?_

"No…" Shuuhei blushed at the young woman's insistence. "I will walk to the rest rooms, thank you though."

"Your broken leg won't be mended for another few days, even with kido healing. If you would sit up, please…here, let me help you."

Shuuhei felt a stab of pain suddenly and groaned.  
"What happened?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing," Muguruma-taichou croaked from the other bed.

**XDXDXD**

Once their morning needs were taken care of and they were fed a bland hospital breakfast, Kensei decided it was time to give his young lieutenant some tough love.

"Shuuhei."

"Yes, taichou?"

"What the fuck were you doing last night?"

"I don't remember."

"Try."

**XDXDXD**

"…_and that's an order, fukutaichou."_

"_Hai, I will have fun, taichou."_

_Matsumoto whooped as soon as Kensei left and ordered another round of drinks._

**XDXDXD**

"…_OK we've been drinking how long? And I'm drunk and with friends but I still don't feel a sense of fun."_

**XDXDXD**

"…_wow, your Soul Phone can play Living World music on it? Lemme see…"_

"…_betcha we can dance to it…"_

"…_betcha a round of drinks you won't dare dancing on the table…"_

"…_I will if you will…"_

**XDXDXD**

_**Baka! You're the only one to get hurt, AND you owe Ikkaku three rounds.**_

Shuuhei composed his pallid features, met his captain's stern gaze, and composed his voice to be professional and calm.

"Following your orders, Muguruma-taichou, I did my best to find out how to have fun. My activities included drinking, swearing, and dancing on tables with members of the 11th division. Unfortunately, I was the only one to fall and break my leg. My zanpakutou also informs me that I still owe 3rd seat Madarame Ikkaku three rounds of sake. I apologize, taichou…it will never happen again."

Kensei looked at the young man in the bed across the isle, his hair in mussed and tousled spikes, his eyes sunken deep and accentuated by dark circles.

"Did you have fun, Shuuhei?"

"…I think so. At least, I must have come pretty close." He saw his fukutaichou still for a bit.

"My zanpakutou informs me that I did, indeed, have fun."

"Good. I want you to do this again. This time, try not to break anything."

"Taichou."

"What, Shuuhei?" Kensei growled his reply.

"Did you have fun?"

"Oh yeah. I sure did."  
"Is that why you're at the 4th division, too?"

Kensei rose on his elbow, his hospital gown sliding down to reveal a bandaged sword-cut which must have broken his collar bone. A close call. He saw Shuuhei take note of it and shudder.

"I followed orders, too. Unohana-taichou instructed me to forge bonds with fellow officers to ease my repatriation into the Soul Society. So I went drinking at the 11th division. After some time, Kenpachi and I decided to fight. He tried to make me put on my mask, but I refused. As a result, I'm here and he's still alive."

There was a knock at the door and Unohana-taichou entered. She greeted her patients with a knowing smile, assessed their reiatsu levels, and applied some more healing to their broken bones.

"Thank you, Kensei, for leaving Kenny in one piece," she said in a low voice.

"Don't mention it, Retsu." Shuuhei was shocked at their informal exchange and was even more surprised to see Unohana-taichou tousle Kensei's short, white hair.

"As scratchy as always." She smiled. "Make sure to write your reports for the Soutaichou. I spoke with him already, but I don't think he fully comprehended the fact that your injuries are, in fact, training-related."


	3. Chapter 3

Repatriation – 3

Sweat beaded on the tip of Hisagi Shuuhei's nose, his formerly spiked hair plastered to his temples. The 9th division fukutaichou kept swirling the long, wicked sickles of Kazeshini's kusarigama in their even, elliptical orbits, the sharp sickles swishing past his legs and his ears, the chain links worn smooth by the iron grip of his deceptively slender hands.

"Come and get me, fukutaichou!" Muguruma Kensei, the taichou of the 9th division, stood just outside of weapon's range, his zanpakuto in its deceptively meek shikai. For Takeshini assumed the form of a large survival knife in Kensei's hands – a knife which allowed him to control the very wind itself, carving sharp blades formed of reiatsu and sending them, wind-swift, at his opponent.

Kensei was pleased with Shuuhei's progress in controlling his shikai. Shuuhei had become closer to his zanpakuto and no longer feared it quite so much, his self-inflicted injuries having become quite rare. That pleased Kensei immensely, for if anything truly bothered him, it was seeing Shuuhei in pain. He measured the slender, rope-muscled figure before him. Shuuhei regained a lot of the muscle mass he lost previously, but he was still so lean, you could identify the individual deltoids in his shapely shoulders.

The signs of progress were, however, marred by signs of complacency. Kensei released a fast-spinning air-blade to shake Shuuhei up a bit. Pleased, he saw his missile easily deflected. He shot another, and another, the cadence of his missile release easy and even, and Kazeshini's blocks smooth in response. There was, however, no attack.

**XDXDXD**

"Come and get me, Shuuhei!"

_Oooh. I wish he hadn't phrased it quite like that._

_**I heard that, baka.**_ Kazeshini chuckled in Shuuhei's mind.

The other man, well-muscled and beautiful in his deadly dance, moved to the left by several steps. Shuuhei merely re-centered on him. He was supposed to advance, and he wanted to, but not with the intent of _defeating_ his captain. No…he wanted to run his hands through the short, white hair, he wanted to tilt his head down and capture Kensei's straight lips, run his fingers along his chiseled jaw…

Sudden pain pierced his arm and his scent picked up the wet, metallic stickiness of blood. The wound wasn't deep but it stung, his pride echoing the sensation.

_**You're letting your dick distract you.**_ Kazeshini's critical tone indicated displeasure with his teammate.

"It sure would be more interesting if we had a hand-on-hand fight," Shuuhei replied.

_**If you get us close enough, it may come to that. **_

**XDXDXD**

Kensei's eyes narrowed as he felt the way Shuuhei centered himself. As though he finally knew what he was going to do. As though he knew what he _wanted_. The weight of Shuuhei's reiatsu crashed over him and he felt his inner Hollow stir. His presence was a constant in his life but he didn't feel hin rouse unless the prey seemed worthwhile. Kensei was never quite sure whether his Hollow understood the concept of "practice". His sparring with the other Vizards was fraught with struggle for control not over only them, but over his Hollow as well, for his Hollow tended to go somewhat overboard and Kensei had no interest in eliminating his friends permanently.

Tachikaze was a familiar and a reliable ally, her missile blades shooting out with deadly accuracy. Shuuhei seemed unconcerned, having fallen into a block-block rhythm, Kazeshini's sickles reaping Tachikaze's blades out of thin air.

Except complacency never helped anyone achieve bankai. Kensei varied the rhythm of his attacks and was rewarded by a flinch of the muscled arm, a dark, wet streak running down all the way to Shuuhei's hand. It hurt, but it was the only way. Kensei didn't love inflicting pain, but he understood the necessity for it. There were other kinds of pain which he'd hate to inflict much more.

Bleeding lightly, Shuuhei advanced upon his target, his blades whirling in a protective shield, his body mobile and flexible as he allowed the unblocked missiles of Tachikaze slide through his shihakusho, shredding it but not touching his skin.

"_The enemy will miss you by an inch, not by a foot."_

Byakuya's voice rang in his head from their earlier sparring sessions – the precise, careful, risk-averse 6th division captain as though by his side – and Shuuhei focused on balanced tension through his whole body, extending his senses through Kazeshini once again.

Almost there. So close – but Kensei shunpoed away from him.

Shuuhei flash-stepped on the diagonal to intercept the older man.

Kensei flashed back a few more steps.

Shuuhei, blades whirling, advanced, aware of the wall ahead. If he could only pin Kensei against that wall. Preferably in the corner to the left – if he could keep him from moving out of his range…if he could cut him off somehow.

**XDXDXD**

Kensei had been well aware of the wall behind him. Shuuhei seemed to have a plan, and curious as Kensei was, he didn't intend to find out what that plan was. He flash-stepped away from the wall to his right, intent on not getting cornered, when a dark shadow full of whirling blades met his path. A wave of reiatsu hit him, its crest breaking on his broad chest and he took two steps back, regaining his balance.

Those two steps cost him dearly, for while he back-peddled, Shuuhei's shunpo caught up with him.

**XDXDXD**

Left. Left! More. There!

"_**We got 'em!"**_

Shuuhei let the chain slide through his loosened grip, one sickle pulling its links into a loping arc, the second one secure in his left hand. The weighted chain shot up, wrapping around Kensei's body and arriving in Shuuhei's ready right hand. He pulled the crossed chaines hard, his left hand blocking Kensei's blade with the oversize kama of Kazeshini.

Having Kensei under his tenuous and momentary control, he flash-stepped ahead, slamming both of them into the awaiting wall's embrace.

**XDXDXD**

Kensei was pinned. His range weapons advantage was now neutralized and he had naught but a long survival knife against the two black, wicked scythes. Shuuhei's reiatsu pressed against him and he murmured approvingly, scenting the fresh, ocean breeze and the light hint of eucalyptus.

His inner Hollow scented the same thing and growled in recognition.

_Mate._

**XDXDXD**

Shuuhei's left hand had let go of Kazeshini, his effort redoubled on capturing Kensei's zanpakutou. It was a bold and an impudent move. He felt his reiatsu flare against his opponent, his senses heightened, feeling Kensei against his chest, his legs.

_Don't think with your dick._

His fingers wrapped around Kazeshini's hilt, he tasted Kensei's reiatsu darken and there was that feeling of pleasurable warmth, and pressure, and Shuuhei's kiai turned into a shout of joy as he slammed into Kensei once again, resuming his pin, desperate to wrestle Tachikaze out of his strong, gloved hand..

He saw Kensei's eyes turn a colder shade of yellow and he felt that dark, hot reiatsu envelop him and as he swirled his own energy around Kensei in return, there was excitement there and a deep, rumbling growl. Shuuhei, amazed, saw a white Hollow mask grow on Kensei's face. His face was obscured by it, only those hard, yellow eyes were visible, so different in expression and intent from the warm yellow eyes of Kensei. Yet there was the warmth he so craved – enveloping, smothering, caressing.

Shuuhei leaned forward and stroked his smooth cheek against the Hollow mask and he felt the dusky reiatsu strengthen, yet it was less heavy and less hot somehow and Kazeshini whimpered in Shuuhei's mind.

_**Fucking gorgeous. **_

**XDXDXD**

Kensei'd been pinned, sharing his sight and perception with his Hollow. The picture he received was oddly distorted when he did that; he could see the heat envelop Shuuhei as though in layered colors and he felt his reiatsu more intensely. Fresh wind laden with salt spray whipped him in the eyes and the verdant scent of eucalyptus invaded him together with the spicy fragrance of sun-scorched, baked clay. It was all he could do to keep his eyes from rolling back in pleasure.

_Mate. Need mate._

His Hollow's voice shook him from his momentary lapse of reason and he tightened his grip on Tachikaze. Impudent pup – nobody took his zanpakuto away. His vision cleared as he shoved his Hollow back into the recesses of his consciousness.

"I'd head-butt you but I don't want to break your nose." His gruff voice bore a faint trace of satisfaction. Whatever he'd done, he'd succeeded in forcing his fukutaichou to move into his space. He wasn't sure what it was, though, and how he could replicate the desirable action. He needed Hisagi to be more aggressive, more willing to win.

The younger man didn't move, hips pressed against hips, slender hands pinning stronger wrists. The grey-green eyes met the primrose yellow, filled with longing and want.

"Kensei…" Shuuhei's voice was breathy as he pressed his hips against him, once again enveloping him in that fresh green aura.

He felt the soft, sensuous lips caress the corner of his mouth. Hands ghosted up his bare arms, their slow ascent savoring the definition of his shapely musculature. His breath hitched. The Hollow inside him hummed approval and so did he as he parted his lips, inviting Shuuhei's tongue, his wrists abraded by the rough stucco wall.

"Hisagi-fukitaichou, are you done with this practice field?" Matsumoto and Kira stood at the very end, hesitating.

Kensei shook off Shuuhei's grip and sheathed his zanpakutou.

"Well done, Hisagi-fukutaichou." His voice carried across the expanse of the area. "We're done for today."

He felt the loss of Shuuhei's touch against him.

"Hai, taichou." Shuuhei stepped back, Kazeshini already sheathed. In a much softer voice he added, "Would you like a cup of tea? I have a special blend in my quarters." Their eyes met and suddenly, Kensei knew fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of being ridiculed for his clumsy efforts. This was Hisagi Shuuhei – a man whose name was legend among both women and men of the Seireitei. Even the aloof Kuchiki deemed him skilled enough. The two fukutaichou now patiently waiting for them to clear the area, had been his lovers – simultaneously.

"Thank you, but not today. I have a previous engagement."

**XDXDXD**

Kensei's cold words made Shuuhei feel a chill within. He was being rejected, but why? As they walked to their respective quarters, Shuuhei's thoughts drifted to a particularly passionate kiss he and Kensei exchanged in the 9th division office. Kensei had said, back then, that he cared about him. Yet there'd been a hesitation, a certain sort of holding back which hurt Shuuhei almost as deeply as being rejected back in the World of the Living. He kicked a stone, channeling his irritation.

_**You know, absence makes the heart grown fonder. **_

"Yeah?"

_**That's how Matsumoto keeps Kira's attention, you know. She makes sure he has ample opportunities to miss her presence.**_

Oh. Kazeshini must have been visiting with Haineko. The zanpakutos used to visit one another a lot when the three shinigami lived together. He was glad that they remained close. After all, there was no reason he couldn't remain friends, even good friends, with his former lovers. This didn't exactly solve his current situation, though. First, a shower. Second, a dinner date. Ikkaku and Yumichika requested his presence that evening, aware of his quest for the meaning of "fun". Shuuhei resolved to wear a gray kosode with thin, green leaves painted on the upper back and sleeves. It was a gift from Yumichika and Shuuhei knew the flamboyant man would appreciate it.

**XDXDXD**

Kensei showered, the evidence of his raging need subsiding only when the hot water ran out.

Damn.

He never figured himself to be a coward. The reality of the situation was, though, that he didn't know what to do with another man. He'd have to find out…he couldn't ask Renji or Byakuya, his pride still smarting. Same applied to Kira. Ikkaku and Yumichika would know – and they were unconnected to Shuuhei romantically, plus Kenpachi would welcome his company.

Yes.

He'd have a quick dinner.

Then he'd bring a bottle of sake to the 11th division.

He'd hang out with Kenpachi.

He'd accidentally run into Ikkaku.

Not Yumichika – the man was just too much for him for a conversation as delicate as this one.

**XDXDXD**

Dressed in a casual gray kosode, his haori left behind, Kensei had just stepped out the door when a graceful shape appeared before him.

Matsumoto Rangiku.

"Mugumura-taichou. I have a note for you from Hisagi-fukutaichou."

He glared at her. "What does it say?"

"I do not know, sir."

He growled thanks and took the sealed parchment from her hands.

_Mugumura-Taichou,_

_ With your permission I am requesting the weekend off. I will report on Monday at my regular time. In case of emergency, please contact me via Hell butterfly._

_ Regards,_

_ Hisagi-fukutaichou_

The tone was rather formal, betraying no indication of the younger man's fondness for him. Kensei frowned, lifting his eyes to the blonde woman. "How did he seem?"

"Who, Shuuhei?" She replied, her voice bubbly as always. "He was a bit preoccupied. Maybe a bit strung out. Why?"

"He's requesting the weekend off."

"No way!" Rangiku opened her wide eyes in feigned amazement. "He never takes any time off. But taking time off is good, right? There's a first time for everything."

Kensei suppressed a sigh.

"I suppose so. Thank you, Matsumoto-fukutaichou."

He turned on his heel and headed toward the ramen shop, a bottle of good sake in his hand, bile rising in his throat. The kid would be the death of him yet.

**XDXDXD**

"He's impossible." Kensei sighed, his sad, yellow eyes following the motions of Kenpachi's hands as he refilled his sake bowl. He leaned forward to refill Kenpachi's bowl. They raised them together in yet another toast.

"To sanity," Kensei said, closing his eyes.

They drank.

"And the worst part is, I just don't know what to do." Kensei hiccupped, his eyes jerked up in startlement at his body's betrayal. "No fucking idea. If he was a babe I'd know what to do, but he ain't. He fucking has to be a guy." He drained what was left of his sake and leaned against the wall of their customary Friday-night alcove.

"There are people you could talk to." Kenpachi worked his jaw some, his expression solemn, only a hint of amusement glinting in his uncovered eye.

"Yeah. Not Yumichika, though. I'm gonna talk to Ikkaku. Where is he?"

"Gone for the weekend."

"Damn."  
"But Yumichika's still here."

"What, didn't they go together?" Kensei's brow was drawn in puzzlement.

"Ikkaku and Shuuhei took off. Something about Shuuhei finding something fun to do. What is this obsession of Hisagi's with fun, anyway?" Kenpachi drained his sake bowl and set it down.

"I guess our Shuuhei never had a chance to do anything fun," Kensei reflected. "Wait…did I hear you say he left for the weekend with Madarame Ikkaku?"

**XDXDXD**

Kenpachi poured a bowl of plum wine for Unohana-taichou, who accepted the drink with a bow and a downcast smile.

"I'm so glad I could get out tonight. No emergencies, thankfully." She took a dainty sip.

"So tell me, Kensei. What is this research project of yours? Kenny has been hinting at it all night long, but he just won't tell me anything."

Scorching heat flooded his too-pale skin as Kensei groaned, forcing himself to meet the 4th division taichou's eyes.

"It's something of a personal nature, Retsu."

"I see." She smiled in that quiet, omniscient way of hers that used to give Kensei the creeps when they'd been going out and he hadn't been entirely truthful with her.

"How about you come see me tomorrow, Kensei. We can discuss whatever you need to know over lunch."

**XDXDXD**

Shuuhei slept like the dead. The relative quiet of the countryside was undisturbed by the hustle and bustle of Gotei 13 activities. No messengers, no Hell butterflies, no troops to train. Only his zanpakuto rested by the side of his narrow futon.

When he emerged from the guest room, fully dressed and refreshed, Ikkaku met him with a small breakfast and a large pitcher of water.

"First of all, you'll need to put on the trews I set out for you unless you want to thrash your hakama. Second, wear my uncle's spare boots once we go outside. Please."

"Alright. You're the boss, Ikkaku."

"My uncle Hiro will be back tomorrow; he's delivering a horse to a customer of his. We're in charge of mucking out the stables and helping my cousin while he's gone."

"Where's your cousin?" They arrived very late the night before. The house was already asleep.

"My cousin Kohaku is still pretty young to run the stables by herself, although she does a great job training the horses. She's out with them now; I'll introduce you as soon as we wash the dishes."

Not much later, Shuuhei stood in a low building with a sliding door on each short side, his feet snug in uncle Hiro's old leather boots, a pitchfork in his hands.

"The horses are now in the paddock so I want you to clear the dirty straw out of each stable. It goes on the pile out back. Then they'll need clean water in their buckets." Shuuhei looked down at the short girl. She was surely younger than an average Shinigami Academy graduate, her long, black hair braided down her back. A polished drop of amber hung suspended off a horse-hair braid around her neck. A testament to her name, no doubt.

"I'm on it." Seeing that Kohaku already did the stables on the other side, he'd be damned to let this slip of a girl outwork him.

"Where's Ikkaku?" He asked, merely curious.

"He's fixing some woodwork around the place. There's a whole list for every time he comes." Kohaku smiled. "I think he does it just so Yumichika gets to ride."

**XDXDXD**

Shuuhei was done mucking and carrying water. He bent over the cistern, washing his hands and splashing his face. The day promised to be hot again and he wondered however he could stand the heavy leather boots.

"Hey, Shuu, you ready?"

He turned around to see Ikkaku lead two horses. Ikkaku's larger steed was chestnut with white socks and a blaze.

"This is Stix. I'll ride him. You ride Frosty here. Frosty's getting too old to jump so he won't take you by surprise."

Shuuhei approached the smaller, white horse with feigned confidence. He extended his hand and let Frosty snuffle him. The soft nose felt pleasant on his work-hardened hand and as the horse's nose rose to his own, drawing in air, he couldn't but smile.

"Hey, Frosty likes you. If he breathes your air he's checking you out. Here, hold the reigns like I do and lead him over there – follow right behind me. Do what I do."

Half an hour of circling around the paddock gave Shuuhei, a novice rider, the basics. He was an empty vessel, a brand-new beginner, catching every drop of Ikkaku's words of wisdom and advice:

"Keep centered, like with the sword."

"Shoulders back."

"Not so stiff…relax! You need to breathe!"  
"Push your heels down.'

"Hands forward. You're telling her to stop when you pull back like that."

"Squeeze hard – there – don't kick. She'll throw you if you kick."

"Elbows in."

"Heels down!"

"Whoa, whoa, WHOA! Pull the reigns a bit!"

"I didn't know she'd canter with you. Sorry 'bout that."

"Stand in the stirrups, butt in the air, hands on her neck. That's your jump position."

"No, don't jump her. Just in case she bolts when we're on the trail, y'know?"

**XDXDXD**

Kensei sat in the pear tree, watching the small fruit gain in size. He was settled in his private, exclusive spot where the branches met just so. Tachikaze in his obi, the fingers of his hands interwoven behind his head, he wondered where his fukutaichou might be. He was ready for him. Unohana Retsu was very kind. They discussed life in general over a pleasant lunch, after which she took him into the seclusion of her office. He walked away with two small books on the art of love and a practical "how-to" explanation of how two men might pleasure one another, as well as the "why" of each technique, preparation, and precautions.

It was a lot of material to digest.

It was a lot of stuff to think about.

Kensei and his Hollow consulted on the matter.

He was ready to take his time and make their love-making the high-point of Shuuhei's life.

He would make him feel so desired, so loved, so carefully prepared, before he entered him.

**XDXDXD**

Ikkaku's rapping echoed on the guest room door.

"Yeah, coming!" Shuuhei's reply was sprightly, but not so his body. Yesteday's riding lesson and a trail ride left his legs stiff and sore and his lower back aching from an unplanned canter across a grassy plain. Ikkaku might have been a fine teacher of particular techniques, but he definitely forgot how incredibly sore Shuuhei was going to be after his first time.

After a whole half-hour, Shuuhei hobbled into the kitchen, greeting uncle Hiro and his daughter Kohaku. They just finished their breakfast.

"Are you always a late riser, Hisagi-san?" Uncle Hiro asked, his face a mask of seriousness.

"No, Uncle. On the contrary – but I feel somehow handicapped by yesterday's activities."

Hiro laughed and Kohaku hid a smile.

"I hear you went all the way to the river. That was unkind of Ikkaku."  
"I wouldn't have gone as far, Uncle, except Frosty hadn't been blown out in so long he broke into a run and before we reigned him in, it became our next logical stopping point."

"I see." Uncle Hiro looked at Shuuhei with renewed interest. "And you kept your seat. I think we may be seeing you again, Hisagi-san."

They helped with the stables and the horses, the physical activity sending blood into Shuuhei's muscles and making him feel a bit better.

"Hey Shuu," Ikkaku said over lunch, "There are hot springs not an hour's ride away from here. If you feel up to it, of course."

Hot springs sounded good, so Shuuhei bit the bullet, stretched out, mounted Frosty, and followed Ikkaku at a moderate trot into the countryside.

They dismounted their horses, untacked them, and hobbled them near a fresh-water creek with plenty of shade and grass. Then they undressed and slipped into the pool of bubbling, warm water.

"This is even better than the onsen at Seireitei," Shuuhei purred. He could feel his sore muscles warm up, inner thighs capable of movement again, lower back ready to unkink and crack. He slipped off his rock and began to stretch.

"Don't overdo it, Shuu. If you overstretch right now, you'll be in such exquisite pain it will land you in the 4th division tomorrow."

"Did you do that?"  
"No…Yumichika did, though."

**XDXDXD**

On Sunday morning, Shuuhei didn't hear the knock on his shoji screen. Ikkaku had to come in to shake his shoulder. His very soreshoulder.

"Shuuhei. Wake up, man. Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Gimme a minute."

Everything hurt. His loins were aflame from the abrasion of the saddle and fabric against the flesh rendered tender by the soothing hot water spring. His lower back felt extremely fragile and he had to roll to his stomach and push his way into a cat stretch – which is how he found out that his shoulders and upper back were exquisitely sore from holding the reigns in an unaccustomed position.

He got up eventually and fell into his spare uniform, splashed his face with water, and waddled his way into the kitchen.

"I don't think I'll be riding today. I don't think I'll ever ride again."

He eased himself onto a seat with a groan and gratefully reached for a cup of proferred tea.

"There's only one thing I have to say in my defense," Ikkaku said, his eyes agleam with thinly veiled humor. " I promised Yumichika that I will be no easier and no harder on you than I was on him. You got exactly the same work and riding schedule as he did, with exactly the same results as he did."

**XDXDXD**

Monday dawned, the sun burning off the morning dew with its first rays, promising another hot day. Kensei walked to the 9th division office with eager step.

It was empty.

Hisagi-fukutaichou wasn't there.

Inconceivable.

The first delivery of interdepartmental memos already landed on their desks.

Shuuhei was _always_ there before the paperwork arrived.

Kensei settled in his chair, leafing through the bureaucratic flotsam with listless fingers. His world was turned upside down. He, Muguruma Kensei, finally knew how to please his male lover, and he was eager to communicate that fact, yet his soon-to-be lover was not to be found.

He could be injured.

Delayed.

Eaten by a hollow.

OK, not eaten by a hollow – any incident of such magnitude would have shown on the 12th division detection system.

The door opened. There stood Hisagi Fukutaichou, regret in his incredible, eucalyptus eyes.

"Good morning, taichou. I apologize for being late today." He bowed stiffly and proceeded to walk to his chair. Kensei noted a pronounced limp in his gait. He observed Shuuhei manoeuvre his body between his desk and his chair. The slighter man planted his palms on the desk and, with great and delicate care, he lowered his bottom onto the seat of his hard, wooden chair. He winced in pain as he touched down.

"Are you alright, Hisagi?" Kensei forgot to growl – there was true concern reflected in his eyes.

"No major injuries, taichou." Shuuhei turned to him and winced, his hand flying to the small of his back.

"If I may inquire…where were you, Shuuhei?" Kensei's voice was like a fist of steel, clad in a velvet glove.

"Ikkaku took me out to the country side, to have some fun." Shuuhei winced in pain again. "As a result, I cannot walk, or sit, my legs are aflame and my lower back is about to go out. However, Yumichika informed me that that's normal for the first time – he had exactly the same experience as I did." Shuuhei halted his languid narrative.

"Wait. Taichou. Where are you going?" He would have followed him, had he not been in such excruciating pain.

**XDXDXD**

"Kenpachi!" Kensei's roar was heard through the whole 11th division courtyard.

"Yeah." The 11th division captain lumbered onto the porch, his hair still down, his kosode hanging out of his hakama.

"Why so early, Muguruma?"  
"I have a bone to pick with your 3rd seat, Kenpachi."

"What for?"

"He despoiled my fukutaichou!"

The acoustics of the courtyard lured a few 11th division members out; when somebody came yelling like that, it often resulted in an entertaining duel.

Ikkaku emerged from the shaded doorway to his and Yumichika's quarters.

"Muguruma-taichou. How may I help you?"

Kensei flash-stepped to a point two steps in front of the taller, bald man and he glared at him with all the gravitas of his person and his Hollow combined.

"Next time don't poach in my territory." He stepped in and slugged Ikkaku right on the jaw.

The taller man stumbled back, his body in a ready position.

Time stilled until Kenpachi began to laugh.

"I do not see any reason to be amused." Kensei's voice was a Hollow hiss, his eyes turning a cold, pale yellow.

"I do. Your fukutaichou walks with a limp and his ass is sore after spending a weekend with my 3rd seat. What else did you expect?"

Kensei turned his cold glare at his drinking buddy and friend.

"You want to take me up next?"

"Sounds like fun."

A purple streak flash-stepped between Kensei and the others. Ayasegawa Yumichika, still dressed in his lovely violet dressing gown and getting ready for the day, the flamboyant feathers not yet affixed to his brow, held a slender hand against Kensei's chest.

"Muguruma-taichou, forgive me, but there has been a terrible misunderstanding."

His violet eyes met Kensei's beseechingly and he bowed.

"I am very sorry if my horse was not an adequate mount for your fukutaichou. She's getting older and her gait is no longer as smooth as it used to be. However, if this was Hisagi-fukutaichou's first ride, it is only natural that he would experience a certain amount of soreness in his legs, his lower back, and in…other areas…as well."

**XDXDXD**

Shuuhei was lying on his futon in his quarters, stripped down to his fundoshi. A pot of medicial tea sat next to his head, it's bitter, astringent odor holding a promise of pain relief.

Kensei opened a jar of ointment and lathered his hands with it, stroking Shuuhei's long, smooth legs from top to bottom.

"Ah…owwww…more to the inside, there. Argh!.. Fuck, that hurts so good, Kensei!"

"Keep it down, will you?" Kensei growled.

He kneaded the strong, lovely hamstrings with his powerful thumbs and moved up to the round, shapely ass. He cupped the cheeks under the heels of his palms, kneading in small circles, moving to the outside of the hip, targeting the strained and overworked abductors.

"Ah, Kensei, more…oh, more…yeah right there, ohhhhh….."

Kensei saw Shuuhei's fists grip the sheets of his bed, his jaws clenched, and felt the familiar heat pool below his navel.

"Shuu…do you know what ointment I'm using?"

"Ah…no…"

"I got it from Unohana-taichu. It's to ease our way…" he let the powerful, intoxicating kneading of his hands accentuate his words, "when we decide to finally go for it…and I will prepare you with it…and use it on myself…so I can slide inside you…and make you feel…absolutely fucking great."

There. He said it. His hands kept kneading, moving higher, his thumbs now gently massaging the stiff and sore erectors running parallel to Shuuhei's spine.

"Ahhh…but Kensei…I wasn't planning to be on the bottom…I was…ahhh… Ow!...I wanted to…lather myself…so _I_ could slide…inside _you_…"


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey...sorry I haven't updated in a while, but I had to wrap my mind about what Shuuhei's going to do first. Also, I'm about to finish Breakfall, yey! And I've been working on some non-fic writing, which is a major victory over inertia on my part. No special warnings apply; there's some angst and sex and violence, nothing you haven't seen before.**

**Enjoy!**

_Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo._

REPATRIATION 4

His slick hands stilled in their path over Shuuhei's buttocks.

"You…you thought you'd top me." Kensei's voice was soft and incredulous.

The firm glutes under his palm wiggled. "Please…don't stop. It just feels _so_ good."

The ninth division's taichou's eyebrows shot up at his fukutaichou's pleading voice. His half-hard member perked up within his hakama, unrestrained by underwear.

"What feels good, Hisagi-fukutaichou?" He husked. "Please be specific."

Shuuhei sighed.

"Your hands. The way you…Aaah! The way you knead my sore muscles. So good."

A dark-haired shaggy head turned, one eucalyptus green eye trained on him. "I'll have to go horseback-riding with Madarame-san more often."

Kensei bit back a growl, applying his well-oiled hands to Hisagi's tight hamstrings. He hated looking like a fool, and he sure made an idiot of himself in front of the 11th division earlier. Despoil his fukutaichou, indeed. His scowl softened at the gasps of pleasure and pain from the man under him.

_Under him._

"So…you won't let me top you, then?" No need to beat around the bush.

"Yeaaaah…ooooh…Well I've never…Ah…never bottomed before." Hisagi's smooth, rounded ass appreciated in value hundred-fold.

"Not with Kira?"

"He likes to bottom."

"Not with Renji?"

"Nuh-huh…Ahhh."  
"Kuchiki?"

"Thought about it." Shuuhei's voice sounded a bit too wistful for Kensei's liking.

"Ow! Way too hard!"

"Sorry." Kensei didn't sound sorry. His inner Hollow growled.

"_Mine."_

A wave of heavy reiatsu washed over Shuuhei's prone form; he felt pressed into the futon by it, his erect length trapped by his fundoshi. The heat of Kensei's energy permeated his body, melded with it, with his very spirit. It felt…ahhhh…so good. His abused, sore body soaked it up like a cat curled by the stove. He felt the large, warm, oil-slicked hands run up and down his legs, strong fingers circling over the overworked sides of his hips. He felt the tight, knotted muscles submit and relax, their tension diverted elsewhere. Soon, the talented finger traced the wiry muscles of his back, running up to his shoulder blades. He felt the warm heels of the palms press and circle in that tight triangle between his shoulder blades and his spine. A moan escaped him. His taichou was a man of many talents and the possessive, oppressive warmth engulfed him like a cocoon, blindfolded him with its darkness, the thick ropes of reiatsu binding him, possessing him.

"_**You seem to be enjoying yourself."**_

Kazeshini's voice held a note of caution.

"_I am." _Shuuhei relaxed, yielding to the powers that cradled him. Where did Kazeshini's caution come from? The heartache of the previous year felt distant now. He knew it would return later, but now, for at least a little while he had a respite from his painful shame. His current responsibility was limited to only feeling those talented hands, that deliciously dark force, letting it take charge and make him _feel_. That, too, was ephemeral, but who was he to turn down an oasis in the middle of a desert? He was bent on enjoying his freedom – no, his _lack_ of freedom – for as long as Kensei was willing to let him. Involuntarily, his hips ground into the futon, helpless and loving it. The weight of the world was lifted from his shoulders.

There was no Ninth Division to babysit.

There was no guilt over Tousen's deception.

There was no newspaper to manage.

Rermorse over Tousen's death was but a distant memory.

Able hands flipped him over and, loosened, his fundoshi fell away.

Shuuhei closed his eyes and groaned. Those hands. So large, so generous. Warm, questing fingers and heated palms seared paths over his skin and he absorbed it all, welcomed it, submitted to it. He tried to lift his hands to reciprocate but his effort died young, battered down by the dark heat, brought in line by a throaty growl and the bottomless, yellow stare of Kensei's eyes.

It was like he didn't have to even think anymore.

It was like Kensei would do even that for him.

His taichou…

A hot hand palmed his erection and he arched into it, meeting every stroke with eager gasps of intense pleasure. The black light ensnared him further and he relished his weightless detachment from reality.

His taichou…would even think for him.

The thought hit him hard and he felt the peals of alarm bells ring inside his mind. Kazeshini growled, his reiatsu pushing back against the dark bonds.

"_**Like Tousen thought for you?"**_

Then there was panic and alarm and a desperate struggle to free himself and regain his mind – and amid flashbacks of the monstrous, blind captain who controlled him so thoroughly, and of Tousen's spilled blood - strokes of searing pleasure stilled his limbs and, unable to exercise his will in any other way, desperate, he cast out a long tendril of reiatsu.

_Help!_

Any help. Please…

He could not, would not, subsume his will and desire to anyone, not ever again, not after Tousen…

He felt his body seize as control slipped him and he spilled into Kensei's hand, his voice crying out for help, for someone, anyone, to help him find himself again.

**XDXDXD**

He felt his mask grow on his face, pleasurable urge coiling in his belly as he pinned his willing, yielding, gasping fukutaichou against his futon with all of his being. His hand stroked the incredible, silky smoothness of his manhood and he felt Shuuhei's pleasure like he did his own. He knew Shuuhei would let him turn his body over and pull those slender hips close to him, and then he would prepare him as he was instructed at the Fourth, before he sheathed himself in the depths of his soft heat, his smooth flesh.

Something changed – something unknown yet perceptible – suddenly this younger man who professed to yearn for him struggled from within his grasp, his eyes wide and unseeing. Kensei felt Shuuhei's reiatsu explode as his pleasure crested, his seed filling his hand with slick heat.

"Byakuya!"

His inner Hollow growled, its voice edged with bitter jealousy. Kensei suppressed him, his mask dismissed. His hand pressed Shuuhei's shoulder down and his legs pinned Shuuhei's legs as he stroked his softening length.

His heart felt like it would shatter. Had it not been for the panic in the unseeing eyes of his fukutaichou, he would have punched his pretty face. The temptation was still there – damn him for pining for that stuck-up aristocrat – yet his zanpakutou sent a wave of warning. Not all was as it had seemed.

He didn't care.

He let go of Shuuhei and wiped his hand on his bedding, straightened his clothing, and burst through Shuuhei's rice paper screen door without bothering to open it first.

**XDXDXD**

Renji strove to keep his eyes glued to the paper. His eyes glazed over, encumbered with bureaucratic language. Too many words. Words unnecessarily large and obscure. Repetitive phrasing. He snapped himself awake once again. Two o'clock in the afternoon was the hardest part of the day, and for that reason he would have preferred to be out training, had it not been for Kuchiki-taichou's clan meeting. There was extra work for Renji on days like these and he dared not slack off, unwilling to further irritate the already annoyed captain.

Kuchiki Byakuya, the scion and leader of an ancient family and the captain of the 6th division, jerked his head up and stood from his chair. Renji turned to him, alarmed. Kuchiki-taichou was not an expressive man. Not in public. Standing up like that…

"What is it, taichou?"

Grey eyes met Renji's concerned gaze.

"I just felt Shuuhei's reiatsu." He measured Renji with his eyes. "Did you feel anything?"

"No," Renji sighed. He had kept up with those meditation exercises Gabriel taught him, but his progress was painfully slow.

Byakuya strode to Renji's desk, gripping his shoulder with his slender, tekkou-clad hand. He felt Renji relax under his touch and his grey gaze softened. They were alone.

Renji leaned his head back, inviting an explanation.

Byakuya cleared his throat, and frowned. "I better go check this out."

**XDXDXD**

Despite his concern, Byakuya walked at a stately pace. Whatever emergency there had been must have passed, yet he felt obliged to at least investigate. Shuuhei had been making such good progress. He'd found the will to live. His work with his zanpakutou was ground-breaking. He seemed to be getting on quite well with his captain, if the latest flare of reiatsu was any indication. Byakuya allowed himself an inward smile. He well remembered the flavor, the scent, the heat of Hisagi Shuuhei's reiatsu at the point of climax. There still was a sense of despair to it, an emotion that had been Shuuhei's well-hidden default, one that Byakuya would be happy to see disappear. Yet, in those weeks when he and Renji kept Shuuhei company, never once did he recall the 9th division fukutaichou ask for help directly. That he should call out in distress – at a point of climax when he'd have been so vulnerable – Kuchiki Byakuya found the situation highly disturbing and allowed his pace to pick up the slightest bit.

He walked around the Ninth Division headquarters. Shinigami passed back and fro, greeting him with courteous bows and smiles. He had been a familiar presence in these parts, not too long ago. Byakuya stopped around the corner from Shuuhei's quarters and focused his inner eye on the energies within. Hisagi-fukutaichou was still there, his reiatsu turbulent even while the younger man was falling asleep.

_No sense waking him up. I'll stop by later._

Byakuya detected residual traces of Muguruma-taichou's energy. The 9th division captain had been there recently – recently enough that Byakuya felt the dark, heavy undertone of his presence – yet now he was gone. The Kuchiki heir closed his eyes, tuning into the residual reiatsu again. It reminded him of something…no. Impossible. According to the energy spectrum left behind, the Vizard must have let his Hollow loose.

Byakuya's stomach flipped; he never quite trusted the Vizards' control of their inner hollows. Shuuhei might have been injured, or scared, or…

Byakuya approached the door around the corner, only now seeing the splintered wood and the torn paper of the sliding shoji screen. Alarmed, he eased his way in. Hisagi-fukutaichou's sprawled form was lying nude on his futon, his lips whispering confused words in his sleep.

"Shuuhei." Byakuya touched his shoulder.

"Shuuhei, I need you to wake up." He sent a tendril of his reiatsu to the sleeping man. Shuuhei's hand batted him away.

"No…no more. Leave me be."

'No more' what? Byakuya jostled the bony shoulder again. "Wake up, Hisagi-fukutaichou!"

Shuuhei's eyes flew open and he sprung to his feet, his nude form towering over the seated Byakuya. He looked left, then right. Realizing his unclad state, he made a motion to reach for the clothing still crumpled on the floor. His eyes were caught by the familiar black hair, the angular planes of the shiny kenseikan reflecting sunlight into his eyes.

"Byakuya. What are you doing here?"

**XDXDXD**

Kensei's rage had almost left his system. His breathing was just under control again. He was thinking the events of the past day through, step by careful step, yet he still could not discern a possible reason for Shuuhei's distress.

"_**It's not Senbonzakra's master's fault."**_

"He cried out his name."

Tachikaze remained silent, unwilling to interfere any further. The silence bothered him more than a heated argument would have. He needed to talk it out. He needed to know what was wrong with Shuuhei. He needed to take Shuuhei and turn him over and rip his hakama off, sinking himself between his hot, round cheeks and making him cry out _his_ name in the throes of passion.

"_Mate. Mine."_

For once, the Hollow sided with him instead of his zanpakutou.

He headed back to Hisagi Shuuhei's quarters, resolved to talk about what happened and have Shuuhei's door fixed - just as Kuchiki Byakuya's graceful form slipped through the wrecked shoji screen.

Kensei's eyes glazed over.

He saw nothing but red. Kuchiki's hair was black red and his haori was bright red and his red scarf dripped around his throat like fresh-spilled blood.

Blood pounded in his ears.

He could feel his eyes change into that pale, cold yellow and his reiatsu grew heavy with portent.

**XDXDXD**

Byakuya left Shuuhei dressed, hugged, and with a cup of fresh-made tea. Their conversation yielded little fruit and Byakuya resolved to bring the issue up with Muguruma-taichou. Generally he'd be loath to interfere, but so much of his and Renji's energy- and emotion - had already been invested in Hisagi Shuuhei he found it most trying to exercise his customary restraint. He stepped out through the hole in the screen, only to be assaulted by a wave of heavy, ominous reiatsu. There, across the street, stood Muguruma Kensei.

His eyes were that bottomless, cold yellow he'd seen once before.

A mask began to materialize on his face.

Byakuya weighed his options and exited the street, taking his place in the middle of the 9th division training grounds.

Kensei took his measure of the arrogant man. He stood erect and calm, the wind playing with his hair and his precious silk scarf. Kuchiki's zanpakuto was still sheathed.

"Would you like to walk with me, Muguruma-taichou? We have much to discuss." The cold, polite voice sliced the air and the arrogance of it almost took Kensei's breath away.

Almost.

He drew Tachikaze and carved the air with her, sending a spinning blade of reiatsu in Kuchiki's direction.

He watched the younger captain slide sideways, evading his attack with ease.

"There is no need for this. We need to talk."

A growl and another spinning blade was his reply.

"Are you losing control of your Hollow, Muguruma-taichou?" Kuchiki's voice was unconcerned. It enraged him. He was not losing fucking control. He was finally letting his inner Hollow play. After all these years of not trusting himself, he wasn't going to lose control in front of this spoiled-brat punk.

"I remember back when you chased cats over the rooftops of Seireitei, Kuchiki. Don't toy with me. And don't touch what's mine."

He unleashed a small, fast blade, this time not intending it to miss.

"Chire, Senbonzakura."

The air howled with the wind of Tachikaze. Her air blades were torn asunder by the delicate, deadly snowstorm of pink sakura petals.

Attacks were traded, negated, side-stepped. Adrenaline coursed through their veins.

Spectators begun to gather, and a blast of raw power knocked a wall down, everyone retreated by several body lengths.

Byakuya detected the killing intent in Kensei's attacks dissipate. The fire was burning itself out. He disregarded his bleeding arm and his shredded haori and shihakusho, focusing on the ebb and flow of his shikai.

Swirl to the left.

Above, then duck down.  
Bank right – then down and in.

There!

Kensei heard the crowd break in applause. He looked around, the winds howling around his form. The he felt it – a sudden loosening, and his hakama fluttered down, slipping down and pooling around his feet.

Damn.

Kenpachi stood to the side, grinning like a madman. "There goes Kuchiki Princess and his girly shikai!"

The rest of 11th division laughed. Renji stood next to them with Rikichi and the rest of the 6th division, watching their captain show his prowess. The 9th division observed him with a restrained awe – he saw many of them – perhaps everyone except for his own fukutaichou.

Shinigami from other divisions amassed as their duties allowed, clapping and cheering.

Soi-fon appeared as though out of thin air, standing the packed dirt between them with practiced ease. Her black-garbed minions appeared around her in a symmetrical formation.

She turned to Kensei.  
"Mugruma-taichou, your presence in the Seireitei is permitted only as long as you keep your Hollow powers under control. An out-of-control reiatsu has been reported by the 12th division. You'll have to come with us."

Kensei turned his warm, primrose-yellow eyes to the diminutive captain. "I am in full control, Soifon-taichou."

"You have assaulted Kuchiki-taichou!"

Byakuya walked over to Kensei. He sheathed Senbonzakura and bowed.

"Thank you for a most illuminating sparring session, Muguruma-taichou. Are we on for next week?"

Kensei met the cool, gray gaze, the stone-carved face betraying nothing. He worked hard not to glace at Kuchiki's bloodied arm. "Sure. I was obviously unable to neutralize your shikai entirely." He turned his back to Soi-Fon and bent over, picking up his hakama and mooning her in the process.

"Here, let me affix that with some kido," Byakuya offered, making Kensei's rent clothing stay in place with a mere gesture of his fingers.

Soi-fon turned to the 6th division captain.

"Explain yourself, Kuchiki-taichou."

He met her fiery eyes with a cool gaze. "There is no need to explain simple sparring practice, is there, Soifon-taichou?"

"Is there any reason to bring the Hollow into it?" Soi-fon spat.

"Muguruma-taichou is highly skilled in the control of his air-based weapons, as well as in the control of his Hollow transformation. There is nobody else in Gotei who can provide me with a similar challenge at this time. In fact, I shall request that Mugruma-taichou visits my division and have some of my seated officers go up against his lower-level attacks." He looked into the crowd.

"Abarai-fukutaichou."

"Hai." Renji flash-stepped to his captain's side.

"Please coordinate training schedules with Muguruma-taichou so that our division can get the benefit of his expertise."

"Hai, taichou."

**XDXDXD**

Dressed in the gold-tone kosode, Renji sauntered up to the Kuchiki manor side gate, the stone patch worn smooth under his feet. A practice with the 9th again? He'd have to ask Byakuya about that, find out what happened. He raised his hand to knock on the door when a familiar presence appeared behind him, flash-stepping and out of breath.

"Muguruma-taichou?"

The silver-haired man spared him barely a glance.

"Where's Kuchiki?"

"Inside." He knocked. Curiosity was eating him from the inside and it took all the control at his disposal not to ask what was wrong.

The door opened and a servant invited them in. Both men took off their shoes and followed the man to the dining room. They sat on the cushions, waiting for Byakuya to appear.

In just a few minutes the painted door slid open and Byakuya stepped in. He wore a simple, blue yukata and his hair was loose around his face, free of ornament.

"I am sorry to intrude, Kuchiki-sama, but something extremely…disturbing…has occurred." Kensei's voice was choked, the air barely making its way out.

"What happened?" Byakuya asked.

"Hisagi-fukutaichou. He has left." Kensei dug into his sleeve. "Here, he left a note. I was hoping you could help me make sense of this."

Byakuya met Renji's eyes and a small smile almost slipped his face.

"We would be honored if you would join us for dinner," he said. "It's a simple affair. Then we can discuss Shuuhei and how we can be of service to you, and to him."

**XDXDXD**

He sat his horse with the careful precision of a beginner. His saddle bags were packed, dry food supplies and a cooking pot and a bed roll, and Kazeshini. There was a fishing line with two hooks, and a sharp knife. There was a bag of grain for Frosty and a hoof pick, a brush and a curry comb. He needed little else. The map Yumichika drew for him showed the path into the mountains where the air was cool and clear, the stream water tasted of highland ice, and there was ample graze for Frosty to feed on. He'd left a note for Kensei. He hoped the meaning was obvious.

_Dear Kensei,_

_I need some time all to myself. _ _I cannot be with you until I know how to be without you. Please give me a few weeks. If I don't return in two months, something has probably befallen me. Ayasegawa-san can point you in my direction, should you need to reach me in case of an emergency._

_ Shuuhei_

What he really meant to say was, _"I love you."_


	5. Chapter 5

A/N:

I am very sorry to disappoint all of you who have been following this story, but I have to put this particular fic on hiatus. Originally, I wrote it for a dear friend of mine. He/she fell very ill and cannot play along at this time. Whenever I start writing, very sad feelings emerge and I really feel like turning this story into a dark, depressing death fic, which is not something any of us would, ultimately, enjoy.

Please send happy thoughts and good vibes to my friend, wishing him/her a speedy recovery.


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